


My Lover, My Liar

by alpha_exodus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bondage, Breathplay, Established Relationship, HP: EWE, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13739391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpha_exodus/pseuds/alpha_exodus
Summary: Harry underestimated how much fun it would be to play pretend.





	My Lover, My Liar

**Author's Note:**

> bixgirl1, I truly wasn't planning on writing for this fest, but your prompt caught my eye right off the bat. I hope you enjoy :D
> 
> Thanks to AmoretteHD for the beta!! <3

Their bedroom is lit only by a single torch, hanging in the middle of the room. Harry watches the shadows of the flames flickering on the wall in front of his face, struggling against the bonds that Draco—no, _Malfoy_ has used to tie his wrists together. The bonds have been attached to the wall with a sticking charm, up high so that Harry’s forced to stand nearly parallel to the wall.

“What are you doing in the dungeons, Potter?” Malfoy spits out, his tone sounding positively nasty—a perfect mimicry of the way he used to sound back at Hogwarts.

So they’re in the ‘dungeons’, then. Harry closes his eyes and allows himself to pretend. It helps that he can barely see anything from his position against the wall, so all he really has to do is imagine that the carpet beneath his feet is the stone flooring of the corridor instead, that the Malfoy behind him really _is_ the Malfoy of their youth, having trapped Harry here, entirely at his mercy—

Harry shudders a little, shifting against the fabric of his old Hogwarts robes, slightly too short for him now. Malfoy had tied his Gryffindor necktie onto him too tightly earlier, and Harry’s starting to think it was on purpose as he swallows, feeling the fabric briefly squeeze around his neck.

It seems he’s taken too long to respond, because he suddenly feels a wandtip digging into his back. Mouth right next to Harry’s ear, Malfoy growls—“What. Are you doing. In the dungeons.”

Harry makes the effort to twist his face into a scowl. “None of your fucking business.”

“Potter, Potter, Potter,” Malfoy says, tsking, and Harry can just imagine him shaking his head. “You know you can’t say things like that to a _prefect_.”

“Yeah, well I just did, didn’t I?” Harry retorts, and Malfoy snorts, removing his wand from Harry’s back.

“I’ll give you one last chance,” Malfoy says. “Tell me what you’re doing down here, and _maybe_ I’ll let you off easy.”

Harry keeps his mouth shut.

Malfoy waits a good moment before finally saying, “Oh, what a shame. I even gave you the chance to get out of this, you know—isn’t that generous of me?”

Harry growls. “Go to hell, Malfoy.”

Malfoy ignores the insult, and instead Harry hears his footsteps, soft in the carpet as Malfoy paces back and forth behind him. “It’s unfortunate that you and your friends managed to lose _all_ of your house points just the other day,” Malfoy murmurs, and Harry resists the urge to snort—that _does_ rather sound like something he would’ve done back at Hogwarts, after all. “So the question is,” Malfoy continues, “What sort of punishment shall I give you? Any suggestions?”

Harry says nothing, eagerness thrumming in his veins, and Malfoy _hmph_ s.

And without any warning, Malfoy spells Harry’s robes off.

Harry yelps, a warm knot of lust and excitement and a tiny bit of fear forming in his stomach as he stands there, wearing only his pants and t-shirt and that too-tight tie. “What the fuck are you doing?” he shouts.

Malfoy chuckles. “Isn’t it obvious? You need to be taught a lesson, Potter.”

Harry opens his mouth to reply, to protest, but then he feels Malfoy’s wand tip is at his back again—except this time it trails down his spine, all the way until it reaches his tailbone. “Malfoy—!”

Malfoy Vanishes his pants.

Harry’s heart pulses into overdrive, and he automatically shifts so that his feet are together, but still—his arse is bared to Malfoy’s gaze now, and fuck, he’s getting _hard_ —

“None of that, now,” Malfoy says, and then he casts an unintelligible spell that kicks Harry’s legs apart, forcing him into a wide stance. It’s not an uncomfortable way to stand, but fucking _Merlin_ he feels so vulnerable, and as he looks down he sees Malfoy spelling bonds around his ankles, stretching the ties so they touch the wall and sticking them on in a similar fashion to his wrists.

Almost as an afterthought, Malfoy spells his shirt off too, leaving only the tie. Harry’s nipples go hard in the cold air of the bedroo—er, _dungeon_ , and his breathing quickens as he feels Malfoy’s hands at his hips. “Malfoy, are you _mental?_ What the fuck are you doing?”

“You can’t tell?” Malfoy says, sounding smug as he presses up against him, and fuck, Harry can feel Malfoy’s cock pressing against his arse through Malfoy’s trousers—and he’s hard too.

“You’re—this is—are you going to—” Harry bites his lip.

“Am I going to fuck you?” Malfoy says, and Harry can _hear_ the smirk in his words. “Why yes, Potter, I think I might. After all…” He reaches around and wraps his fingers around Harry’s cock, stroking it once, and Harry fights not to whine as he bucks his hips into the touch. “You need to be taught not to go sticking your nose around like the bloody snoop you are. What better way than to give you a punishment you won’t forget?”

Then Malfoy pulls his hand away from Harry’s cock, and now Harry _does_ whine, causing Malfoy to laugh, low in his throat.

“And anyway,” Malfoy says, “You _like_ this. Who would’ve known that you secretly wanted to be tied up, right here, where anyone could find us? Ha! Pervert.”

Harry swallows thickly, heart racing as he throws himself into his role. “I’m not—I’ve… I’ve never d-done this before.”

“ _Really?_ ” Malfoy says, and the word sounds salacious on his lips. “You mean to say that the great Harry Potter has never given his arse to anyone? Tch—somehow I find that hard to believe.”

Harry grits his teeth, refusing to let himself rise to the bait.

“So you’re saying,” Malfoy continues, “that you haven’t even _experimented_ with your little Gryffindor friends? I’m sure the Weasel would’ve been more than happy to.”

Harry feels himself flush. “Don’t bring him into this,” he growls, and Malfoy cackles behind him.

“All right now, Potter, we’re done with foreplay,” Malfoy says, sounding oh-so-pleased with himself as he crouches down behind Harry. His smarmy attitude is driving Harry positively fucking insane—it shouldn’t be this sexy, but it _is_ , and Harry…

Harry’s never wanted him more.

Cool hands cup his arse, spreading him wide, and Harry gulps as Malfoy makes an approving noise. “So _tight_ , Potter!”

Harry scowls, feeling his face redden—fuck, Malfoy could do _anything_ to him right now, and he feels so damn exposed with Malfoy staring at his arsehole like this, muttering words of approval of all things.

And the worst part—the part that makes him feel taboo and dirty in the best way—is that Harry _likes_ it.

“Fuck you,” Harry grumbles into the wall.

“Oh, you will,” Malfoy says airily, and then his hands briefly disappear.

Harry hears the whisper of a lube spell, and he shudders, leaning his forehead against the wall as Malfoy’s hands return to his arsecheeks. But this time, a slick finger darts out to slowly circle his entrance, and Harry can’t help letting out a moan.

“You _do_ like this,” Malfoy says, but it’s not quite in character—instead, his voice is hushed in wonder, the same dumb, sappy tone he always takes on when he’s about to finger Harry open, and Harry nearly chokes on the sudden swell of love that fills his throat.

“Yeah,” he says, craning his neck around so he can grin down at where Draco’s kneeling. Harry can barely believe they’re even doing this, but Draco had sounded so intrigued when Harry suggested it, not at all disgusted or freaked out like Harry had expected, and fuck, Harry _loves_ him—

Draco looks up at him, a faint smile on his lips, and then he swats at Harry’s arse. “Don’t break character,” he mumbles, as if he hadn’t been the one to do it first, and Harry laughs and turns back around.

Draco—Malfoy, now—Malfoy spreads him open again, making a humming sound as he inspects the space between Harry’s legs. “I can’t believe all it took to get you hard was to take your clothes off,” he mumbles delightedly. “You must really be gagging for it, Potter.”

Harry clenches his fingers into fists. “Malfoy—you don’t… you don’t have to do this,” he says, his breath hitching as that slick finger returns, pressing more insistently at his hole.

“I don’t,” Malfoy says, pressing his forehead briefly against the small of Harry’s back. “But I _want_ to. And I think you want it too, Potter. After all…” His voice is sly as he sits back up behind Harry. “A little bird told me you’ve been wanking over me all damn year.”

Harry splutters—mostly because it’s _true_ , he’d fancied Malfoy for longer than he’d wanted to admit during sixth year, hadn’t he?—and rasps out, “Th-that’s ridiculous! Who told you that?”

“Oh, I have my sources,” Malfoy says, lightly tapping the pad of his finger at Harry’s arsehole and making him clench. “Very _reputable_ sources.”

“That’s just ridiculous,” Harry repeats, shaking his head, and Malfoy snorts.

“Somehow, I’m having a hard time believing that,” Malfoy says. And then, as if to confirm his statement, he presses the tip of his finger into Harry’s arse—and Harry can’t stop himself from letting out a soft moan at the intrusion. “See?” Malfoy says, holding that finger there, twisting it slightly. “You’re gagging for it.”

“Fuck y-you,” Harry says, and he’s panting now, _want_ racing through his veins and pooling in his groin. He’s so fucking hard he feels like he could come immediately—if Malfoy would just touch his cock.

Malfoy doesn’t, of course. Instead he starts pressing his finger inside, so slowly Harry wants to cry, and Harry lets his head fall back, closing his eyes.

“That’s it, Potter,” Malfoy says, and the smirk in his voice is back. “I bet you’ve always wanted to do this, haven’t you? To submit to me? I can see it in your eyes when you’re glaring at me during breakfast, you know. You used to make me so _angry_ , Potter, showing up and ruining my plans and sticking your nose in places you shouldn’t have.” He pauses, his voice growing hard, and suddenly he presses his finger in all the way to the knuckle, making Harry yelp quietly. “I suppose that still makes me a bit angry.”

Harry bites his lip. He’s sweating now, from the effort of holding himself up and holding back his cries, the ones he would normally make when Malfoy’s thrusting his finger inside of him. “Yeah, well you’re an absolute git,” he mutters.

“Right. Tell that to the man you sliced open on the bathroom floor,” Malfoy shoots back, voice oozing disgust, and Harry winces.

“I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t know—”

“Shut up, Potter,” Malfoy says, and starts adding another finger. “I don’t need to feel annoyed right now. I find that takes all the joy out of sex, don’t you?” He pauses, fucking his fingers into Harry’s arse in earnest now. “Oh, right. You’ve ‘ _never d-done this before_ ’,” he mimics cruelly.

Harry shudders, embarrassment rising in his chest—but paired with the illicit feeling of being bound against the wall, held open and fingered by his “rival”, it’s just the right combination of feeling humiliated and feeling desperately, desperately turned on.

“Just get it over with,” Harry mumbles, trying to act uninterested, but it’s mostly because he _needs_ Malfoy inside him, needs it so bad—

“Get what over with?” Malfoy asks smugly. “What, did you think I was going to stick my cock in you?”

Harry feels suddenly shoved off kilter. “You—you aren’t?”

Instead of answering, Malfoy pulls his fingers out, leaving Harry feeling bereft of the touch. Then Malfoy Summons something, casts a lube charm, and Harry gets his answer when he feels the tip of a plug at his arse.

His heartbeat starts racing as Malfoy slowly starts working it inside him. Fuck, Harry can’t even tell how big it is with his face to the wall like this—all he knows is the slick sounds of the thing sliding in him, the feeling of its tapered sides working him more and more open, and Merlin, he’s so fucking _full_ —

He lets out a loud whimper when he feels the plug finally settle into place, the base obvious where it digs into his arsecheeks, and Malfoy lets out a gleeful chuckle.

“Look at _that_ ,” Malfoy says. “You took it so well for a virgin, Potter.”

Harry’s so worked up he can’t even think of a reply, instead moaning as he briefly clenches around the plug—“ _Nngh_ …”

“Your arse is so fucking pretty, Potter. It’s unfair. But at least _I’m_ the one who gets to see you like this, with this plug in you, all filled up—how would you like it if I wanked over your arse, Potter? Like you’ve been wanking over mine all year? I could come all over you and you couldn’t do a thing about it.”

Harry hears the sound of a zipper and lets out an involuntary moan. “Malfoy—fuck.”

“What was that?” Malfoy asks, like the smarmy git he is, and Harry hears the sound of furniture being dragged across the floor—the footstool beside their bed, maybe—and then he feels the tip of Malfoy’s cock pressing lightly against his arse, just below where the plug is deep inside of him.

His breath hitches, half in terror and half in so much arousal that his lungs are tight with it. “Malfoy, that’s—it’d be too much, you can’t—”

“Oh, don’t worry, Potter,” Malfoy says, patting his arse so hard it’s almost more like spanking. “I won’t sully your pretty little arse with double-penetration—not just yet, at least. We’ll see if you learn your lesson about wandering around after hours.” He pulls his cock away, and Harry kind of misses it. Fuck.

Not _yet_ —those words imply that this could happen again, that Malfoy maybe _wants_ to do this again, to tie him up and pretend like they’re sixteen and young and hurtful and vulnerable—Harry’s cock twitches at the mere prospect. God, he hasn’t even _come_ yet.

Behind him, Malfoy’s silent for a moment. When Harry peeks back to look at him, he’s able to tell that Malfoy’s on his knees, but taller than normal—he’s probably sitting on top of the footstool.

“What?” Harry asks quietly, turning to face forward again.

“I wonder if I should fuck you after all,” Malfoy says, tapping his fingers against the plug and making Harry whine as it vibrates slightly. “Maybe it would leave a more lasting impression, hmm, Potter? You think that would keep you from wandering down in the dungeons again?”

Harry gasps as Malfoy wraps his fingers around the plug, forcing himself to relax so that Malfoy can pull it out properly.

“I think yes,” Malfoy says, slipping the plug out of Harry, warm now from being inside of him, and setting it to the side. Then Harry hears another lube charm being cast and swallows in anticipation.

“What are you doing?” he rasps out, his voice thick with lust.

Malfoy chuckles. “You know full well what I’m doing, Potter. You’re going to take my cock now—and I bet you’re going to _love_ it.”

And then the head of Malfoy’s cock presses against his arse. Merlin, it’s so _big_ —Harry hasn’t bottomed in a while, and he always forgets just how it feels at first. “It—it won’t… it won’t fit, will it?” he asks, trembling with the effort it takes to stay still, to refrain from pushing back onto Malfoy’s cock.

“Oh, it will, don’t worry,” Malfoy says, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth against Harry’s arsehole, making him groan. “You’re going to look so good on my cock, Potter,” he murmurs—and the near reverence in his voice shows that this isn’t just some sort of game, or a fucked up power play. It means Harry can close his eyes and bask in the fact that Malfoy wants this just as much as Harry does.

Not that Harry will admit it, of course—not now, in this imaginary time and place.

“What?” Harry spits out. “Is this all because you _want_ me? Merlin, fucking get it over with then. I’m not interested in being your _toy_ , Malfoy.”

Malfoy snorts, pinching Harry’s arse in retaliation. “Patience, Potter,” he says cheerily. “Anyway, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to you. Think of it this way: at least you’re not so ugly that the sight of your face makes me go soft. Otherwise I might’ve had to resort to some more… _creative_ punishments.”

And then Malfoy starts pressing in, achingly familiar in the way he’s slowly filling him up with little thrusts—oh, _fuck_. But this position is completely new, Harry all tied up, Malfoy’s hands at his hips and breath at his back—and so is the way that as soon as he bottoms out, Malfoy immediately starts slamming into him, harder than they usually fuck, _owning_ him—it’s rough and dirty and absolutely _perfect._

“Oh fuck, _oh—_ ” Harry can’t seem stop himself from moaning now, and so he finally lets go of his inhibitions, little gasps and groans escaping him on every other stroke.

“You’re such a slut for this, aren’t you, Potter?” Malfoy growls, reaching up and tugging at Harry’s hair, making him cry out from pain and arousal all at once. “Maybe I should have tried to teach you a lesson months ago—it would’ve been nice to hold it over your head all year, wouldn’t it?”

Then Malfoy adjusts the angle of his thrusting _just so_ , hitting Harry’s prostate, and Harry cries out—“ _Nngh, Malfoy!_ ”

Malfoy laughs, hitting it again, again, and Harry’s very nearly sobbing as Malfoy’s cock drives into him. “That’s it, Potter. You’re not going to forget this, are you? That Draco Malfoy was the one to take your arse for the very first time? I bet you’ll think of this later, when you’re fucking some other poor loser who comes in five seconds because he’s inside the great Harry Potter’s arse.” Malfoy pauses to give a particularly vigorous thrust, making Harry cry out incoherently. “And having this memory is going to annoy the hell out of you for the rest of your life, mark my words, Potter. You know why? Because—” He slows his movements so that he can start punctuating his words with thrusts, pulling back slowly and ramming in—“I can guarantee you—that this will be—one of the best fucks—of your entire life!”

He’s not wrong.

Harry’s warm and sweaty and he can barely _think_ , the pleasure in his veins is so intense. Merlin, how is Malfoy still so fucking _coherent?_ Harry decides that needs to stop, so the next time Malfoy thrusts, he presses back to meet him—

“Fuck,” Malfoy sighs very quietly, and finally, it’s a crack in his smooth-talking exterior—a crack to show that this is Malfoy but this is also Draco, _his_ Draco, dominating him like no one else, forcing him to submit and pressing inside of him again and again, making him writhe on his cock, and Harry wants to come so fucking _badly_ —

And suddenly Harry can’t take it anymore. “I need—I… Touch my cock, p-please, oh fuck—”

Malfoy snorts. “Oh, are you feeling left out? You want to come with my cock inside you, Potter?”

Harry simply whines in response, breath ragged, back arched in an attempt to get as close to Malfoy as he possibly can.

“Fine,” Malfoy mutters. “I might as well—although you better not come before I’m done with you.”

_Finally_ , he snakes his hand around Harry, wrapping his lithe fingers around Harry’s cock and stroking upwards in time with the next thrust of his hips.

“Mal—Malfoy, _fuck—_ ”

“I swear, Potter, if you come right now, I’ll have to come up with some sort of _other_ punishment. And trust me, you’re not going to like that _nearly_ as much. I might even have to spank you—wouldn’t that be fun? Getting your arse cheeks all red? Maybe I could even fuck you again afterwards, while you’re all sore, and you couldn’t even do anything about it…”

Malfoy reaches up to pull at the tie as he continues babbling on about what a slut Harry is, and then the tie is constricting _just right_ around Harry’s neck, fuck—all of Harry’s senses suddenly zero down to three things: that sudden feeling of dizzy breathlessness in his head, Malfoy’s hand like fire on his skin as he wanks his cock, and the perfectly timed thrusting of Malfoy’s cock inside of him, oh, _oh_ —

“Look at you—look at how much of a slut you are for this. I bet you’re going to come find me later, in a few months when you can’t stop thinking about how bloody _good_ this was, and then you’re going to _beg_ me to have my way with you again—”

Harry’s body goes taut, the smug sound of Malfoy’s words in his ears so fucking _sexy_ it’s bloody criminal—and all of a sudden Harry’s pleasure overtakes him, rippling over him in intense waves, and then he’s coming in Malfoy’s hand, fuck, _fuck_ —

“ _Oh, Draco!_ ”

Harry bucks his hips uncontrollably as he rides out his orgasm, and Draco whimpers softly at that. Harry feels a smile coming to his lips even as he spurts out the last of it into Draco’s fist, pressing his hips back, clenching his arse around Draco in an attempt to bring him off as best he can in this position.

It works. It barely takes a moment before Draco is crying out wordlessly, thrusts going erratic as he slumps against Harry’s back, hands clenching at Harry’s hips. “Oh, _fuck_.”

Harry laughs softly, feeling giddy and exuberant. “You can say that again.”

Draco swats his arse, breath heavy on Harry’s skin. “Don’t—don’t relax just yet. I’m not done with you.”

Harry immediately straightens, eyes going wide, and he almost turns back to look at Draco but thinks better of it. “What—what do you mean?”

“Did you seriously think I was going to leave it at that, Potter?” Draco—Malfoy, again—says, popping the ‘P’, and he’s panting heavily as he pulls out of Harry but his voice is as silky smooth as ever.

Harry bites his lip. Suddenly, something’s pressing at his arse again—oh fuck, the _plug_ —and Harry whimpers, breath speeding as Malfoy grips his arse cheek to hold him still.

“You’re going to go back to your common room, and you’re going to wear this, and none of your little friends are going to know about it, got that?” Malfoy says, voice low, fucking the plug back into Harry, and it goes in easy now, slick with lube and Malfoy’s spunk. “You’re going to hold me inside you, Potter, and you’re going to remember how good it felt, and tomorrow you’re going to come find me and _beg_ me take the plug out. Got it?”

Harry’s throat goes dry as the plug presses all the way in, stretching him in all the right ways, and he nods, incapable of speech.

“I’m going to let you go now,” Malfoy says, standing. “If you hex me, well. Let’s say that plug is charmed to do some _interesting_ things.”

Harry nods again, feeling shaky with lust and exertion and the continuing aftershocks of his orgasm. Malfoy undoes his bonds, one by one—first Harry’s left leg, then his right, and finally his wrists—

Harry turns around, takes one step and nearly keels over, collapsing right into Draco’s arms.

“Fuck—!” Harry cries out, feeling suddenly like his limbs are made of gelatin. “S-sorry,” he mumbles, swaying in Draco’s grip.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” Draco murmurs, pulling Harry in close and holding him steady. Harry sighs in relief.

He’s home.

“Ugh, my legs,” Harry groans, still shaky, muscles screaming with the strain of standing that way for so long. He’d been able to ignore it when Draco was fucking him, but now that it’s over the soreness is all he can think about.

Draco leads him over to the bed, undoing Harry’s necktie before helping him up into it, and Harry lies down gingerly on his stomach, minding the plug. “You okay?” Draco asks, perching next to him, hands smoothing over one of Harry’s thighs before beginning to massage it.

Harry nods and gasps, groaning softly as Draco’s hands work at his muscles.

Draco sighs. “I was worried I went a bit overboard with the bonds, but you said—”

“No,” Harry says, turning his head to smile weakly at him. “It was perfect.”

Draco smiles back, looking relieved, and Harry feels so warm he wants to burst with it. “Good,” Draco says, moving his hands to Harry’s calf, and Harry lies there, warm and comfortable, his lover’s hands skating over his skin and putting just the right amount of pressure on the muscles in his legs.

When the worst of the soreness is gone, Harry beckons to Draco with one hand. “C’mere,” he says, and Draco crawls to the far side of the bed and lies down to face him.

“Want me to take the plug out?” Draco asks, reaching out to stroke the curve of Harry’s arse, right next to where the base of the plug is still protruding from his body.

Harry shakes his head, shifting closer to press himself up against Draco, sweaty bodies be damned. “No, leave it. I want to—what was it?—to ‘hold you inside me’,” he repeats back at Draco, giving him a wicked grin.

Draco laughs, going a bit red. “It was all said in the spur of the moment, Harry. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Don’t tell me there wasn’t a bit of truth to it all,” Harry says, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “Otherwise you would’ve said worse stuff—like that you hated me, or something.”

Draco bites his lip, eyes bright, taking Harry in. “Would you want that?”

Harry opens his mouth, the word ‘ _no_ ’ ready on his lips, but then he reconsiders it and lets his jaw click shut. “I… I wouldn’t mind it, maybe, if it made it feel more real.”

Smirking softly, Draco nods with a look of appraisal in his eyes. “Well… Maybe I’ll say something like that next time.”

“Next time?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow.

Draco backtracks, looking nervous. “I mean, not if you don’t want to—and it’s not like I _need_ this, because I do like fucking you normally, and I like when you fuck me too, so—”

“Draco,” Harry says, and then presses his lips to Draco’s mouth in a chaste kiss. “I loved it. And I’d do it again—you seem to have forgotten that I’m the one who suggested it.”

“Oh,” Draco says, and then his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Well, then. I hope you know I do love you.”

Harry’s heart flips in his chest—it’s rare that Draco says that, and Harry hopes he’ll be able to remember this later. He’ll have to Pensieve it, just like all the other times Draco’s said he loves him—although his Pensieve is starting to get quite full.

They’ve been together for over eight years, after all.

“I love you,” Harry says, and he tilts his head up to kiss Draco’s nose as Draco smiles. Then Harry grins. “You know, you _never_ talk during sex. If I’d known doing this would make you this vocal, I’d have suggested it ages ago.”

A look of wonder crosses Draco’s eyes. “You—really?” He swallows, laughing haughtily. “Well, I suppose I should talk more often then—if dirty-talk is what gets you going, I mean.”

“It wasn’t just the dirty-talk,” Harry says. “It was just—all of it.” He gestures between them. “Us. I like us.”

Draco snorts. “Even when I was a snobby little arsehole and you were a boy with terrible hair and a penchant for saving people? No, strike that—your hair’s still terrible.”

Harry rolls his eyes, laughing. “I didn’t like us much back then, obviously. We… we’ve had a lot of shit to work through. Like when I cut you open,” he says, a twinge of remorse pinging in his throat even now.

“You apologized a long time ago,” Draco says easily, smoothing his hand over Harry’s cheek. “It’s been done with for ages, or else I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“I know,” Harry says, smiling softly. “And that’s part of why I like us a whole lot more now.”

“You’re a sappy git, you know,” Draco says, looking pleased nonetheless.

Harry raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re the one who just said you loved me.”

“I—well—” Draco splutters, his cheeks going pink. “It was just. Afterglow. You know.”

Harry widens his eyes in mock horror. “So you _don’t_ love me? After all that?”

“Of course I do, you prick,” Draco mutters, flicking him in the side of the head.

Harry laughs genuinely, from deep in his belly. “Fuck, Draco. You’ll be the death of me, I swear.”

Draco’s eyes soften, and he bites his lip, looking Harry up and down. “I sure hope not. I mean, I do love you.” He swallows, a strange expression coming over his eyes. “Very much.”

Harry’s eyes actually _do_ widen of their own accord. “Twice in one night,” he breathes, and then he laughs softly. “Merlin. You should tie me up more often.”

“It’s not—it’s just. I said a lot of pretty awful things, and I wanted to make sure you knew…” Draco trails off, looking put out as he shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“No, I do know,” Harry says. “But it’s rather nice when you remind me.”

Then Harry leans in and kisses him. Draco immediately yields, moaning softly as Harry slips his tongue into his mouth, and it’s familiar and heady and warm and Harry loves it. Loves _him_.

Merlin.

Harry sighs out a breath as he pulls away, smiling at Draco, heart fluttering in his chest (still, after all this time) when Draco smiles back. “I’m glad we’re not like that anymore—fighting every day, literally at each other’s throats whenever we got the chance.”

Draco raises his eyebrows. “We do still fight, you know.”

“Well, yeah,” Harry says, smiling ruefully. “But we don’t hate each other anymore. And instead of throwing punches, we—er...”

“We fuck,” Draco fills in, smirking at him, and Harry laughs.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “So it is different.”

“I get that now,” Draco says, nodding. “Part of me didn’t truly understand why you wanted to do this, right when you first asked—I mean, I wanted it, but then I’m usually the one to suggest things like this in the first place, so I couldn’t tell what made it different.”

Harry thinks about it for a moment. “I dunno,” he admits eventually. “It sounded hot.”

Draco snorts. “Of course that’s your reasoning.”

“No, no, really,” Harry says, laughing. “It’s just, I used to, um. Fantasize about that happening? In school. Like, you tying me up and having your way with me, so...”

“ _Really_ ,” Draco says, mouth widening into a slow grin. “ _That’s_ interesting. I’ll have to tease you about it later, you know.”

“Oi, you liked it too,” Harry protests, but he’s unable to stop himself from grinning back, heart aching with the weight of his love for the man in front of him—for Draco. His Draco. “And anyway,” Harry says softly, reaching down to hold Draco’s hand. “Wasn’t it fun to pretend?”

“Yes,” Draco says, and leans in to kiss him softly, a warm melding of mouths that leaves Harry feeling dizzy and breathless afterwards. “It was.”


End file.
